Well, it had been a hectic weekend I went through. The work application, the exam, the stress..... I wish I had a healthy dose of Carim service vitamin today.

Anyway, to those who had read and reviewed my stories so far, I thank you for the reception. Your support is the kind I will cherish the most.

@ Erio: sorry, I must have missed the reviews back there.

And since I won't be tackling t3h backlog today, I present you with my opening post of the week instead.

Spoiler for Tears of the Northern Wind, part 3:

Spoiler for part 1:

He opened his eyes.

For a while, he thought he was at heaven. The mural painting on the ceiling, the echoing hymns, and the shadowy figure of Virgin Mary across the room. He stayed idle, unsure of whether it was a dream or something else because he no longer felt the pulsating pain in his body. He also felt marvellously at peace, being embraced by the radiant atmosphere of the unknown place.

Someone turned the door knob.

He turned to the left. A woman in black clothing was entering the room. It might be one of the angels, he pondered.

“You have finally woken up.”

He looked up at the woman. He was awed. As warm as the morning sun, a pair of auburn eyes was staring down at him in affection. He gazed into the radiant eyes, long enough for the owner of the warm gaze to smile.

“Good morning. May God bless your day.”

He did not know what was really going on, because involuntarily his left hand reached for the hands that were holding a rosary. The hands clasped his palm, and the smile was staring into began to widen.

“Where… am I?”

“You are safe now,” the woman answered, her voice a soft bell ringing in his ears. “You don’t have to worry.”

He examined the woman closer. The calm expression of the heart-shaped face was convincing enough for him to believe in her. The brunette hair was swaying down her face, touching his arm as she bent down to him.

“Are you… one of the angels?”

The woman chuckled. Somehow, the beautiful voice she possessed was soothing, the perfect remedy for tranquillity he badly needed. “An angel wouldn’t be wearing glasses, would she?” she asked.

He blushed. “I’m sorry. I thought I was in heaven, because I was supposed to be… dead out there.”

The woman smiled and put her hand on his chest, which he had realized was wrapped in bandages. “But you didn’t. God was Graceful to give you the second chance of living,” she uttered. “Besides, you won’t have bandages on your body once you ascend to Heaven.”

“I’m still alive…” he murmured, and was stirred by the warmth of her touch that was seeping into his face. “But how did you…”

“The children found you lying on the snow on the way to this monastery,” she said. “They brought you here in time before the blizzard arrived. You would have perished in the coldness if they didn’t find you.”

He tried getting up, feeling all dizzy after lying on the bed for an indefinite amount of time. “I only remembered looking for a magnolia tree, and then…” The woman laughed at the answer, and he turned to her in curiosity. “What are you… laughing at?”

“Magnolia tree in the middle of Siberian wilderness? You have got to be dreaming, haven’t you?”

He frowned. What an embarrassing statement, he pondered. “I’m sorry. I… I had been travelling… and I was thinking I would be losing my sense of direction,” he said.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she assured as her laugh was fading. “It must have been a fated encounter between us.” She touched his face again. “Of course, I will not question you on events that had brought you here.”

He cried. He did not understand why he was crying, or why he was acting like a man with a heart severely broken. The woman did nothing but wipe the tears off his face, not noticing that the pain returned to throb his chest.

“Did I hurt your heart with my speeches?” the woman asked.

“You didn’t,” he replied. “It was just… I…” He was calmed when the woman dried the last of his tears. “Thank you, Sister…”

“You don’t have to thank me, sir,” the woman answered. “It’s my duty to help those in needs.”

They heard cheers coming from the outside. “The children have arrived,” she said and walked to the door. “I have to prepare tonight’s dinner for them. Please excuse me.”

The woman chuckled. “That’s right. We haven’t known each other’s name, have we?” She corrected her posture and brought her hair behind her shoulders. “I’m Patricia Popovsky. What’s your name?”

“Hikki…” It was all he could tell her. “Just… Hikki.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mister Hikki,” Patricia spoke and bowed before leaving him. He said nothing anymore, just a disturbing silence that followed. Patricia. A beautiful name to match a beautiful woman.

He winced again. The pain was pounding his chest without mercy. It was very agonizing, as if his heart was stabbed by a thousand spikes. When he finally overcame it, he was so tired he collapsed onto the bed and closed his eyes.

“Patricia…”

Spoiler for part 2:

Night arrived. He had woken up when snow was falling outside the monastery. He looked outside, noticing how the glass panels were covered with snowflakes and crystallized ice. It was quiet, and he was expecting the occupants to be asleep.

“Ave Maria, gratia plena...”

It was faint, but he could clearly hear it. Someone was singing in the middle of the night, and his first guess was Patricia. Moving slowly to prevent the bandages from coming off, he walked to the congregation hall, finding his way through the dimly lit alley.

He arrived at the hall. There she was, standing in front of the altar, shun by the small chandelier above her, singing the praising song of Virgin Mary. He remained still, not wanting his presence to disturb her concentration, not wanting her beauty to slip his sight.

Patricia stopped. She had noticed his presence. Turning to him, she carved a smile that was as sweet as it had been when he first saw it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were watching.”

Patricia chuckled and sat next to him. “I’m very pleased to hear that. How’s your pain?”

“Receding,” he answered. “I never thought I could travel all the way across Siberia with gunshot in my chest.”

“You mean this?” Patricia said and showed him an intact 9mm bullet. “The doctor took it out during the operation. He said it was a lucky shot, because it had missed your heart by half an inch.”

He took the bullet. He was appalled when a flash of memory struck his mind, and felt mocked by destiny that was making fun of his life. “Claes…” He clenched the bullet and shook his head in disbelief. “You didn’t… kill me…”

“Was the person who fired the bullet important to you?” He could only nod. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I was guilty to force her to fire the gun in the first place…” he whimpered. “I thought it was the best way to end the friendship between us, but…”

“Here. Let me help.” Patricia took the bullet and attached it on a necklace before tying it around his neck. “I may not know what happened between you and her, but I’m sure God will forgive you for the sins you committed.”

“Do you think so?”

Patricia smiled. “Mister Hikki, I never lose my faith in Him.”

“Even if I had killed many innocent souls and committed crimes no normal person could forgive… do you think I still have the chance of redemption?”

“Of course you have,” she said and softly held his hand.

“But I’m alone… how am I supposed to overcome this solitude?” he replied, again stirred by the gentle warmth of the touch.

Patricia chuckled. “You’ll never be alone how many times you’re telling yourself you are,” she spoke.

The chuck struck ten times. Both of them looked at the Tsar-era wall-mounted clock. “Oh, dear. I must not wake up late for tomorrow’s morning prayers.” Patricia excused herself and made haste to her room. “Oh, yes. Are you planning to leave tomorrow?”

He was dumbfounded. What kind of question was that? “I don’t have anywhere to go. Why?”

There was a relief on her face as she heard the answer. “I’m going out to buy some groceries, and I thought I could ask for some extra hands.”

“Is it for the children?”

She nodded. “The monastery offers free lunch and dinner for them three times a week.”

He took a deep breath. “I see if I can help.”

“Thank you so much, Mister Hikki.” She headed to the alley but stopped when he called her again. “Yes, Mister Hikki?”

“Drop the suffix, please,” he spoke. “I’d rather be a modest person.”

She smiled. “Alright, Hikki. I will.”

She left him. Again. He was alone in the cold night, wondering of where he would be going next. If there was such a thing. He glanced at the bullet amulet and asked himself of how terrible it would have been if the children did not find him, or if the slug penetrated his heart. Whatever it was, he owed the kind woman for saving his life.

“Ave Maria…”

He remembered. The gunslingers and the protégés. They used to sing the choir before the Christmas party. It was fun to see the many looks of their face as Chief Natalya was teaching them. Triela’s protest when Hillshire booed her for her bad singing, Henrietta’s timid blush when Giuseppe complimented them, Claes’ warm smile when Mariel and Elsa asked her to help them.

Now it was just a memory of a distant past.

“Will I ever be forgiven for all the crimes I had done?”

*goes to search the Internet for Patricia picture*

EDIT:
Found it.

Spoiler for image:

This is just a template. Note the different hair/eye colour and the lack of eyeglasses.